Obligatory Cabin Story
by Skeexikx
Summary: Haddock and Tintin stumble onto a cabin while lost in the woods and proceed to, er, well...you know. A bit more to the story than that, though... eventually 15 chapters more. HaddockxTintin I promise.
1. A Dark and Stormy Night

Not making any filthy lucre with this. Don't own Tintin & Company - Moulinsart does.

Yup - the obligatory lost in the woods, find cabin, have sex story.

Well, that's how it started out any way...

But along the way it grew a plot (huh - go figure...), grew angst, grew my take on Tintin's back story, then grew some more until it became 16 chapters in all.

But don't despair, there will be sex, oh yes.

Standard grammatical apology, any mistakes are due to fumble fingers, sheer blindness and complete disregard for the English language.

Hope you enjoy, reviews are not solicitated, but are welcome.

...

Soaked to the skin, stumbling in the dark, tripping over roots, rocks, vines, craters and who knows what else, Haddock almost missed seeing it until he was almost past it. As it was it took him a moment to realize that the dark mass in front of him wasn't part of the forest.

It was a wall. More importantly, it was man-made. This meant that it could be shelter of some kind. Dragging strength from somewhere, Haddock lurched around the corner, looking for some sort of entrance and was rewarded by gazing upon an unmistakable porch, from which a door beckoned.

"Tintin? Lad? Found someplace, hear me?"

But the young man that was riding piggy back did not respond. His head lolled on Haddock's shoulder, arms hanging loose around Haddock's neck. Haddock's own arms shook from the strain of supporting the lad's legs, his back aching from having trudged up and down hills, looking for some kind of haven for the two of them.

Brow furrowing with concern, Haddock forced his shaking legs up onto the porch and surveyed the door. It had a latch, not a doorknob and somehow he managed to open it without upsetting the load he was so carefully carrying.

Entering into the small structure, it took several minutes for the Captain's eyes to adjust to the even darker interior. Finally he made out what looked to be a couch, in front of what could possibly be a fireplace. Making his exhausted way over to it, he gently deposited his cargo. For some long minutes he felt more than saw the objects on and about the fireplace until his hand grasped what he hoped was an oil lamp. Making his way to the doorway to use what little light there was, he sighed as he discovered he'd been right. Digging into his inside coat pocket, he pulled out a box of matches, hoping the contents had been protected by the deluge they'd travelled in. The first two he struck fizzled and he felt himself beginning to despair, but the third one burst into brilliant, beautiful, oh so welcome flame.

Quickly he lit the lamp and adjusted the wick and now able to see properly, Haddock closed the door against the tumultuous weather and made his way to the fireplace. First things first - get a blaze going and heat the place up. Both he and the lad were soaked through by the torrential rain storm and neither one needed to catch some cold or worse, pneumonia.

Shaking hands and blurred vision notwithstanding, he soon had a nice, comfortable blaze, the dried kindling and logs he had found next to the fireplace catching easily.

Now – next priority. The lad. Turning around he gazed down at the small figure that lay silently on what was definitely a couch, draped with a sheet. Frowning, he gently but rapidly began to divest the unconscious form of sodden clothing. Pulling the sheet around the boy's body, he used it to both dry and cover the lad. Standing up and catching himself as he swayed, he peered about the small room.

It was obviously a summer cabin, closed for the season. One room, with the door at one end and a four poster bed sporting a bare mattress at the other. In between was the couch, behind which was a small table with four chairs. The wall opposite the fireplace was all shelves, drawers and cupboards except for a small counter and sink. Looking to his right, Haddock noticed disinterestedly that there was a large chair and possibly a book case behind that, also covered with sheets.

Stumbling behind the couch, Haddock made his way to the cupboards, determined to search until he'd found what he needed, but suddenly spied a large chest at the foot of the bed. Turning, he wearily took the few steps towards it and upon flipping open the top, was rewarded with what he was looking for.

Dragging the blankets out he once more made his way to the couch, wrapped up his young charge firmly making sure every square inch was tucked in, only leaving a small space for a small button nose to poke out of, quickly took off his own soaked clothing, placing it with the lad's so it would dry out, finally wrapped himself in yet another blanket, glanced at the fire to make sure it was burning securely and dropped into the chair. He was snoring in moments.


	2. Questions

These chapters will be switching back and forth between Haddock's and Tintin's point of view.

Thanks for the Reviews! Gives me the ol' warm and fuzzies...

…

"Captain?"

"Captain Haddock? Sir?"

"Archie!"

From where Tintin lay on the couch, he could just catch a glimpse of the older man by tilting up his head.

He had woken up warm and dry, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, lying on a couch in front of a fireplace whose fire was now just reddened embers. How he had gotten there he hadn't a clue. In fact, the last thing he remembered was running down a flight of stairs, the Captain behind him, hoping to catch a train and be away by morning. He could still recall Snowy barking urgently ahead of him.

Moving a bit, trying to untangle himself from the coverings, Tintin suddenly winced as his head came in contact with the arm of the couch. It took a bit to extract an arm so he could investigate why the back of his head was so sore.

"Ouch! Oooohhh," His fingers had found an incredibly tender spot. Investigating carefully, he was sure he could feel the remains of dried blood flaking off his hair. Had he been hit, had he fallen down the stairs, had he been grazed by a bullet? He tried to remember if the castle's guards had been alerted to their sudden departure, but events' surrounding their rapid getaway was fuzzy at best. Tintin frowned – he hated not knowing things.

Once more he began to fight his way out of the coverings that threatened to eat him alive, vowing not to give in. Finally free, he sat up and instantly regretted it, as the cabin tilted and swirled. Closing his eyes as wave after wave of vertigo crashed over him, Tintin was just about ready to sink back into the comfort of all those blankets when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Lad? You alright there boy? Here, I think you need to lay back, you've got a nasty bump to the head there."

Agreeing to the suggestion, Tintin laid back, feeling his older friend's hands draping and wrapping him back into the snug confines of the blankets.

"Thank you, Captain." He murmured, eyes still shut, but now that he was lying down, things weren't swirling about quite so much.

"Captain? Where are we?"

He could hear the other man moving about, and caught the sounds of the fireplace being replenished, feeling the resulting increase of heat.

"Not quite sure lad. Some cabin, somewhere in the woods. Found it last night after stumbling over every blasted root and banging into every troglodyte tree during that thundering typhoon of a rainstorm. Though lucky for us there was that rainstorm, kept those freshwater guards from capturin' us."

Tintin followed the sound of the older man's voice as he moved about the room, and caught the noise of cupboards and drawers being opened.

"Aha!" he heard the Captain exclaim, then heard more rustling and another gleeful cry of discovery.

A moment later and the older man was back, carefully slipping his hand behind Tintin's head and gently lifting it. "Here lad, open your mouth" Tintin unquestionably obliged, and was rewarded with sweet liquid which he quickly and happily swallowed. It was so refreshing that it took a minute for him to recognize the taste.

"Captain? Is that…corn?"

"Aye lad, the juice is sweet and will help replace your sugars, now you just drink up. I've found a whole cabinet filled with cans and jars and tins, so I'll find a pot or two and get a nice stew cookin'."

Tintin could feel himself dropping back into sleep, the minor efforts of the morning having exhausted him. He tried to fight it, he had so many questions, but his head was beginning to ache and he was really tired. His hand subconsciously began to search for something missing...

Suddenly he opened his eyes and tried to sit up. The Captain turned from where he was re-arranging the fire and pressed him back.

"Whoa lad, easy there!"

"Snowy, Captain! Where's Snowy?"

The other man regarded him with a look of utter sadness.

"Lad… I don't know that either."

..


	3. Sign from Above

"What! What do you mean, Archie?"

As Tintin looked at Haddock with fear and consternation, it was all the Captain could do not to gather the lad up and sooth him. He hated it when the lad was upset.

"Please Captain, tell me! I need to know what happened. Where are we and how did we get here? Didn't we catch the train? And where is Snowy, please tell me he's ok?"

"Easy now, easy. As I said, I don't rightly know where we are. And as far as how we got here and why and where's Snowy, well just calm down a bit, lay back down and I'll tell ya what happened."

As the boy stared at him with anxiety, Haddock filled him in, starting from the time they were running down the stairs, which apparently was the last memory Tintin had.

Something had tripped the boy up. Either a rock on a step that had caused the youth's foot to slip out from under him or a turned ankle that had the boy losing his balance. Either way, the lad had tumbled head over heels down the remaining few steps.

The Captain had thought the lad dead, or broken at the very least once he reached that sprawled out and unresponsive form. But the boy was breathing, and he couldn't find any blood that seeped from nose, ears or mouth. He had gently shaken the boy, trying to wake him up, and then had carefully run his hands down limbs and across chest finding no signs of broken bones. There was a nasty gash at the back of his head, though.

Wanting to shout at the lad to try and rouse him but loathe as it could bring guards, he had carefully and gently picked up the boy and slung him over his shoulder, the slight weight no encumbrance.

And then he was moving as quickly as he could through the grounds of the estate, trying to make his way to the far, unguarded entrance with the waiting car and from there to the train station, to meet up with the Thom(p)sons and hand over the hard won evidence that would convict the gang of assassins.

And then there were lights and shouts and he could hear the sound of running feet. Fortunately he had reached a grove of trees and was out of sight, but it meant he'd have to move carefully.

As he slowly made his way to the small gate, he stopped. There were more voices ahead!

Swearing under his breath, he knew that there was no way they could get to the train on time. He glanced around and spotted the small white form of the boy's dog. Two things sprang to mind.

One – Snowy could get the letters to the train on time, and they would catch up later.

Two – and though he loved the irritating mutt, his white form stood out like a beacon. Though this bit he kept to himself as he spoke to Tintin.

"I laid you carefully down lad, found the papers in your pocket, used a piece of string I found in one of my own, wrapped the papers around the wee dog's chest and told him to go. And off he went."

Seeing the boy frown, Haddock quickly continued. "Now lad, he didn't want to. The last thing that scruff of fur wanted to do was leave you, especially as you were hurt and all. But that dog's smart and got more sense than some people I could mention. He knew the value of those letters, and he knew time was of the essence."

"Yes." Tintin agreed, though his eyes were downcast. "All the trouble we went through to discover the whereabouts of the evidence, find a way inside and then find the hiding place, almost getting caught several times only to have the letters taken away, and allow those gang of ruffians to escape…"

The youth sighed and raised his eyes, and Haddock saw the sadness turn to certainty. "I'm sure he made it. You're right about him being smart, and he's very brave and resourceful. He'd have found his way to the train, and just in the nick of time too!"

Good ol' Tintin. He may claim not to be an optimist, but the lad had a way of seeing the brighter side of the coin.

"Aye!" he agreed and continued telling how they had moved from dark hiding place to dark hiding place, evading the guards.

"You were beginning to regain consciousness, but I couldn't get you to look at me, let alone tell me how many fingers I was holding up, or what my name was."

He had however, managed to get the boy to ride piggy back.

Haddock wasn't sure when they had left the estate, only that they were traveling through thickening woods, the grounds more wild, the terrain becoming hillier.

He could still hear the guards behind them and was just about to find a good spot to take a stand when a light brighter than any flashlight lit up the sky, immediately followed by a clap of thunder so tremendous the ground shook.

The next moment they were soaked as the heaven's opened and rain poured down. Wind buffeted them, threatening to sweep the Captain, already overbalanced, off his feet.

At least the storm had caused the guards to realize that there was no way they were going to catch their quarry.

But it had made the Captain's progress exceedingly difficult. The rain blurred what little he could make out, the lightning bursts – though frequent - were so bright as to be blinding.

In no time at all he was lost, making his way across the landscape from sheer stubbornness and the need to seek shelter, to find somewhere they could spend the night in, and he could tend to the injury that had rendered his young friend incapacitated.

And then, miraculously, had found this cabin.

If that wasn't a sign from above, then what was?


	4. Inadvertent Activity

The chapter that started it all…

Seriously, there is one point in this chapter (not wanting to give it away right at the start), that got my muse amused and went from there. Subtle (or not) hint – Haddock's realization of the exact nature of Tintin's inadvertent activity.

This is going to be slow moving romance, as neither one has quite caught on to the fact that not only does each one want the other, but that they haven't realized it themselves!

All though I had indicated that the chapters are going back and forth between Haddock's and Tintin's viewpoints, this one is Haddock's again. The following chapters will return to the regularly scheduled program.

..

Haddock woke, his mind swirling in confusion. He opened his eyes and gazed about, the dim room lit by the dying embers, banked for the evening in the small fireplace.

Oh yes, the cabin. He and Tintin had taken refuge there during the storm, a storm that had turned into a blizzard that had trapped them, dumping more than a foot of snow in the high mountain range, a snow that had been blown into drifts higher than either of them could see over, let alone travel through.

Soon after, a bone-numbing cold had swept down, freezing everything that wasn't protected, so cold that even with a fire roaring, frost still painted the furthest corners of the small hut.

Tintin had been sleeping on the small couch leaving the larger bed for the older man, but with some persuasion (very little – since the lad had been shivering even though double wrapped in blankets and sitting as close to the fire without actually setting himself ablaze) had agreed to share each other's body warmth.

For three nights they had snuggled close, Tintin spooned up behind the Captain, arms wrapped around and hands tucked in close. Haddock took great pleasure in receiving the warmth even from so slight a figure as the lad, and he was sure Tintin relished the heat given out by the large bear of a man.

Usually they both fell asleep rather rapidly, even though the day's were spent in relatively calm, almost boring repetition - get up, dress rapidly, stoke up the fire, eat breakfast from the remains of yesterday's meal, begin the preparations for that day's repast, one or the other going outside to chop wood (and even though it was bitterly cold, doing so actually brought more warmth than was felt all day), take turns gathering more snow to melt for water rations, then to curl up on couch (Tintin) or big leather armchair (Haddock) and try to read the small collection of books and magazines by light of fire and oil lamps , all while cocooning themselves in a multitude of blankets. Gentle conversation concerning the various topics of what was being read usually broke up the evening's monotony. Then it was bank the fire, throw all the blankets on the bed, strip rapidly and hop in, quickly arranging themselves so as to give and get maximum heat.

As Haddock lay there he became aware of what it was that had woken him. Tintin was moving in his sleep. At first he thought perhaps the lad was in the midst of a dream or even a nightmare, but the movements were…rhythmical. And seemed to be more from the lower region. In fact…

Haddock gasped as the exact nature of what was taking place struck him. He could feel a hard lump rubbing up and down against his thigh. He was also aware that the boy had flung a leg over him, and that the hands that were normally loosely tucked around and under him were now gripping him, the fingers flexing with the same rhythm. Small moans and mutters were emanating, clearly passionate in origin.

Trying to keep himself still, Haddock at first felt shock - shock that Tintin, TINTIN of all people, who had never given even an iota's perception of sexuality, actual had urges. The next moment he felt relief, thanking the lucky stars that the boy was human after all, he was beginning to speculate. And then a chill swept through him as he wondered…

Was the boy awake?

And if so, that meant the boy not only had urges, but had surrendered to them, was purposely and forthrightly humping the Captain's leg for all he was worth.

A moment later and Haddock's small but resourceful logical side actually slammed into gear. There was no way Tintin would ever allow his physical needs to take over his calm, rational and so even-keeled mind it was sometimes downright unnerving.

Which meant the boy was experiencing a wet-dream. Haddock almost chuckled at the thought and couldn't help but heave a small sigh of relief. Not only from the fact that Tintin was still Tintin, but also that once again, it proved the boy did have some human frailty. After all, the kid may be young, and certainly looked even younger, but he was still a red-blooded male in the prime.

Haddock relaxed a bit and even pressed his leg back against the boy, receiving a small moan in response. He felt Tintin's arms wrap even tighter and could feel the lad's short clipped nails dig into his flesh. His head was pressed against the Captain's broad back, and Haddock felt a slight frisson as Tintin's hot breath whispered against him, the surface cooling with each inhalation.

The boy was clearly reaching the end, as his once even tempo was beginning to waver, the thrusts stuttering, the moans replaced by heavy panting. Any moment and the lad would release.

And the next moment the boy woke with a gasp. Haddock felt his hands release him, grasping at the bed sheet. He could feel the boy stiffen in shock and alarm, yet unable to do anything as he was gripped securely in the throes of deepest passion, seconds away from blessed relief.

A deep grunt followed by a series of barely suppressed pants was heard, and Haddock could feel the boy's shaft twitching against his leg.

Followed by utter silence. The lad was holding himself so still, Haddock was surprised to feel him breathing. Haddock could certainly feel the boy's heartbeat, fast and furious from both his recent physical expenditure and his current predicament. For a long moment Tintin didn't move a muscle. Then the Captain heard a soft 'Mon Dieu' and had the unique experience of both smiling and wincing at the same time, for there was a lot conveyed in those two words. Shock, surprise, relief, awe, but most of all – embarrassment.

He was well aware that Tintin was afraid to move, afraid to change the status quo. He could very well understand the confusion and perhaps even horror of awakening to find oneself engaged in a very intimate act and realize it was both with and against somebody you had no intention of involving.

Haddock lay quietly, waiting for Tintin to make the first move. If the boy wanted to just roll over and forget this happened, so be it. If it came up in conversation later, then it would be dealt with then. He gave a moment's thought of letting the boy know that he was awake, reassure him that this recent event was not the worst thing in the world the boy may think it was, but wasn't sure if that was the best thing. If Tintin thought the Captain was asleep, fine. If Tintin wanted to know if Haddock was awake, then he'd ask. And if the boy wanted to pretend that Haddock was pretending to sleep, then that was all right, too. Let the boy have some shred of dignity.

Gradually, almost agonizingly glacially, the boy unwrapped arms from around Haddock's torso, lifted the leg that had been flung around the Captain's legs, and pulled away to roll over onto his back. Haddock heard the quick intake of breath and the slow exhalation as Tintin let out a sigh. And then heard just the smallest sound of dismay. Once again the Captain made a face somewhere between humor and shared consternation. He so wanted to turn, take the boy into his arms and soothe him, let him know everything was alright. But Tintin had never been one for being coddled, and certainly wasn't going to accept any signs of affection, especially after the nature of recent events.

And so Haddock just lay there, knowing the boy was in distress but unable to chose between letting the boy come to his own terms or just give in and let the boy know everything was alright.

It also didn't help that Haddock was still sporting his own arousal.

..


	5. Lost and Alone

Tintin's side of things…

And yes, I know I'm going over already familiar territory, but this really is more of a psychological than physical exploration (Pleeeeeeeeeease be patient, there will be oh my's and whoo-hoos, I promise), and my main goal in this tale is to get them there but not just by throwing them into a bed and going 'hey - what's that?' and then 'well, let me show you, lad'.

Not that I don't appreciate 'hey - what's that?' and then 'well, let me show you, lad'. And this story did start out that way. But it took on a life of it's own and I hope you'll stick with it.

…

Tintin woke abruptly. One moment he was in the midst of a most unique dream, warm and wonderful, soft and moist, everything surging together in an incredibly satisfying manner.

And the next he realized that he was pressed against the Captain's back, arms wrapped tight around the older man, and his hips were, they were…moving back and forth, and not just moving back and forth, but rubbing his, his…aroused self against the Captain's leg!

Gasping, he tried to released his embrace, but found that he couldn't do anything more then grip the sheets as another, stronger release had overcome him. As such could only lay there, his groin pressed hard against Haddock's leg and ride out the surge of passion as it tipped over and spilled out. He knew he made at least one noise and tried to suppress any other.

Finally the relief was complete and he lay there silently, frozen as he tried to come to terms of what just had happened.

This wasn't the first time he'd had this sort of thing happen to him while he slept, but never with someone. And that someone being the Captain of all people.

He couldn't help but utter a softly whispered 'Mon Dieu' as an entire regiment of emotions marched through him. Shock, dismay, horror, and most certainly embarrassment. And yet there was also a feeling of contentment and relief, surely a holdover from the physically satisfying end to his dream made real.

Tintin's eyes suddenly went wide as an appalling thought struck him. Was the Captain awake? Was his friend aware of what his sleeping partner had just been doing? He closed his eyes and grimaced. Should he move? Speak? Apologize? Run screaming into the night, never to return, so he could die of extreme embarrassment in the equally extreme weather?

And yet…the older man hadn't moved, hadn't given any indication that he was awake, let alone aware of what had recently taken place. Tintin wasn't the type of person to usually let sleeping dogs lie, but perhaps in this instance, it would be the best possible action to take. Forget this ever happened and be sure to sleep facing away from the Captain from now on.

But first, he needed to move away. Without waking the Captain. Moving slowly, he gradually slid his one arm out from under the older man, and lifted both the other arm and (Lord!) his leg off as well. Slowly he turned and lay on his back, making sure not one small bit of himself was in contact with the Captain.

He uttered a small sound of acute regret as he tried to think what he should do next. He was so disappointed in himself - since when did he, Tintin, give in to physical urges. And yet he knew that what had happened was a natural part of being a fully functional male. He was well aware of how young he appeared, that even though he lacked facial hair and even most body hair as well, he was an adult in every sense of the word.

As he lay there, trying to get his whirling mind in order, not to mention calming down his body whose heart still pounded and chest still heaved; he suddenly became aware of yet another aspect.

His underwear was wet. Wet and warm and sticky.

If he was the swearing type, he'd have turned the air blue.

Tintin tried to decide if lying there incredibly uncomfortable for the rest of the night (and just what time was it, anyway?) with an underwear full of rapidly cooling semen was preferable to being caught trying to get out of bed so he could clean himself, thus opening up a whole raft of awkward questions.

They were conserving the water - not that they were in any danger of running out, there was so much snow out there - but it took so much time and badly needed fuel to melt just a bucket full into a handful. As such, any cleaning up was of the utmost necessity. It had been just the two of them and though he was well aware that the civilized world would consider them both quite 'ripe', neither one had complained. You did what you had to. There'd be time for hot baths and scented soap once they rejoined society.

So his taking a wash-up in the middle of the night would be most odd. Tintin gritted his teeth and decided that he would just lay there till morning, taking this perhaps as penance for allowing himself to lose control. But how could he have been in control in the first place – he'd been sleeping! It was just so…disconcerting. Confusing. Overwhelming. For a moment he wished the Captain was awake, he really felt very lost and alone.

As Tintin lay there, he couldn't help the small voice that whispered to him how good it had felt.

…


	6. Under Control

Short Chapter yes, but just think of it this way – getting closer to the two of them getting closer…

…

Haddock was having some difficulty getting his self under control. He tried to take his mind off his pulsating groin by thinking of such things as swabbing the deck (mop being pushed back and forth, over and over, back and forth, body sweaty with the effort, warm water running everywhere across warmer deck, a deck colored peaches and cream – whoops) or trying to imagine blue skies (soft clouds that floated gently, turning to warm grey, raining down warm moisture that soothed hot body – whoops again). He started to think of walking through a nice field of flowers, red poppies that were more red-gold in color, the warm breeze blowing the heads back and forth, the soft petals brushing softly against his legs, caressing and soothing, yet stimulating at the same time – whoops and blast!

It didn't help that he was achingly aware of Tintin behind him, still feeling the sensation of the lad rubbing against him, his lean but strong arms holding him firmly.

The Captain ran through a whole grocery list of subjects including a grocery list in order to get his mind and body back on track. Gradually he gained command over himself. And now that he was once more thinking with his head (the one with the brain in it), he could pay more attention to the other problem at hand.

He was still debating whether or not to let the lad know he was awake. He could hear the boy's barely suppressed sighs and felt his heart going out to him. Perhaps it would be better to just turn and get this out in the open. Their friendship was extremely important to him, and he hated the thought of the two of them skirting around each other for the next few days or even weeks, always wondering what the other may be thinking, but never actually saying anything.

Besides, Haddock had never been the subtle type.

Taking a deep breath, he turned over and faced Tintin.

…


	7. Greatest Mystery

I had originally intended for the story to go straight into the 'oh my's 'and 'whoo-hoo's' at this point. Instead I went into angst. I just felt that Tintin (who let's face it – isn't the most sexually promiscuous lad in the world – no matter our feelings on the matter) would be comfortable just opening his legs up before his heart was.

And the Captain feelings for Tintin are more toward a very special young lad, who could be practically a son, even though he may have ambiguously sexual urges toward the boy.

So, this chapter deals with Tintin's back story and why he is the way his is (and as we all know Tintin is the penultimate vaguely drawn character, so we are free to fill in the who and what and why) to his dearest friend, allowing the Captain insight into the greatest mystery Tintin has ever had – himself.

And now that I've practically written an entire chapter on just the introduction, I will quit my blathering…

…

Tintin stiffened as he felt the Captain shift. He had just about come to the decision of talking to the older man the next morning, confessing all and promising that he, Tintin, would never do such a dastardly thing ever again. Not that he was really at fault since he'd been fast asleep for all but the very end, but still. He sure wouldn't want to be used as some type of surrogate sex object.

He turned his eyes and blinked. Not only was the Captain facing him, but his head was propped up on one hand and he was most certainly awake. Tintin closed his eyes and took a very deep breath, letting it out slowly as he built up his confidence. The Captain knew - he was sure of it. Crumbs.

"Lad?"

Taking another breath, Tintin forced his eyes to open. Best to get this done and over with. The Captain was one of his very finest friends, and he'd hate to think of anything that might damage that relationship. He liked people and got along very well with most, but knew he had a hard time actually letting anyone in close to him, to build the level of trust that he and the Captain shared was not only special, but relished.

Tintin shifted as well, turning to face the older man. He met the Captain's eyes and made a small moue of discomfiture, feeling his cheeks beginning to burn. He suddenly had the most disquieting urge to break down and cry. He, who at one time or another had been kidnapped, held prisoner, tied up, almost shot by a firing squad and had dealt with all of that and more with equanimity - and yet he wanted nothing else than to squall like a baby. For heaven's sake his bottom lip was trembling.

"C…Captain, um, I, I, uh, I…" Tintin swallowed, becoming more annoyed with his self. For crying out loud, he was stuttering. Where was the capable young man he so strived to be?

Meeting his friend's eyes once more, Tintin noted the gentle smile on the man's face. Buoyed by the expression, he took yet another deep breath, and went for broke.

"Captain, I'm sorry. So very sorry. I surely didn't want anything like that to happen, and I'm extremely embarrassed not to mention distraught about causing you any kind of discomfort whatsoever. I promise you with all my heart, that I will make every effort never to engage in such a…an…um." Normally Tintin had no problem finding the right word; he was a journalist after all, quite a good one if all the accolades were correct. But for some reason he could not find a way to describe what had so recently taken place. Horrific act? Despicable act? Incredibly stupid act? Just how does one describe the performance of using a friend's leg as the object of affection?

Tintin jumped a little as he felt the Captain's hand grip his shoulder gently.

"Don't worry about it, lad. It happens, nothin' to be ashamed of. Thunderin' typhoons boy, if I had to count the times I was in a compromised position, well, let's just say there'd be conversational matter to last for days."

Tintin felt himself start to relax, as the older man's tone was light, jovial even.

"Besides," Haddock continued, "You didn't cause me any discomfort. I've had many a dream of my own like that in my life, nothin' to be ashamed of, nor embarrassed about."

"But, Captain, I was…I mean; I had been, er, up against you…" Tintin began, trying to explain and apologize more.

"Aye, I know. But it wasn't really me you were dreamin' about, now was it?" Haddock grinned in friendship.

"No!" Tintin replied rather quickly. "No, not at all." He continued, more in control of himself.

The Captain leaned in little bit and smiled a bit more broadly. "So, anyone we know?" he asked, eyebrows rising conspiratorially.

Frowning, Tintin sought to deflect the question. "No, er not… actually, I don't think I was dreaming about anything specific. Just vague…feelings, I guess." He finished lamely.

"Hmmm." Came his friend's reply. "Should have known, you just aren't interested in companionship, are ya lad?"

Tintin inhaled deep, and let out his breath slowly before answering. "I…I just don't have the time, what with investigating, and traveling, and everything. The job I have, it takes up most of my time…" He stopped as he felt the Captain's hand move from shoulder to chest.

"Lad, is that really the reason, or just a most convenient truth?" Haddock queried; his voice just a bit more stern. "I know you like adventuring and all, but there's more to life than jumping from one frying pan into a raging fire."

Blinking, Tintin looked down and away. He was never comfortable giving out personal information, even to his nearest and dearest friends. The only one he had ever confided to was Snowy, and not only because the terrier was a good listener - never judging or trying to advise, but also because the dog couldn't talk to anyone.

Still feeling the Captain's eyes upon him, knowing the man was waiting for a response, Tintin turned onto his back. He really wanted to turn completely around, put his back (and therefore a wall) up between him and his friend. However, not only would that be rude, but Tintin knew the older man deserved an answer. They had been through so much together, and Tintin doubted the man even knew what flavor of jam Tintin preferred.

Staring into the darkened ceiling, vaguely lit by the dying fire, Tintin began to speak.

"I know Captain. I know. But it's…easier this way. I…this way I don't have to…stop. To…think." He turned his head a little. "I've always loved puzzles, and investigating mysteries is a means to keep myself occupied, to give myself a reason to…stay involved without getting involved." He stopped and sighed, running a hand over his face. "This isn't making sense, is it?"

"Not really lad, but take your time. We've got nothin' but time, out here in the middle of nowhere."

Sighing, Tintin swallowed once and continued. "I'm sure you know that I find it hard to talk about myself." He paused as the Captain made a sound somewhere between a chortle and a snort. "But it's just that I really don't like to draw attention to myself. I like to do a good job, but it's not as if I need the…celebrations or the awards. I know that is part of it, that people like to reward good work, but for me the icing on the cake is when I've completed an investigation and gotten to the bottom of things, putting the pieces together and revealing the whole picture…"

"Son, you're not telling me anythin' I don't already know." The older man's voice broke in, the tone gentle.

Tintin screwed up his face. There was no escape from it. Biting his lip he turned back over to face the Captain.

"I…I don't know who I am. I've tried to find out, but it's the one mystery I can't solve. I don't know who or where my parents are, I don't know my full name, I'm not even sure how old I am."

There was a long silence. Finally the Captain cleared his throat.

"Lad, you weren't fully formed; popping out of some forehead, there has to be some history on you for barnacles sake."

"Captain, believe me I've tried. I think I was left at the doorstep of a church, but no one has any record of it. The vicar retired shortly afterward, and then died of a stroke. No-one at the church remembers me being left there. I've looked at all the births and deaths and marriages and divorces and family histories for that region and tried to find somebody that might have had a child then, but there is nothing. It is like I just arrived out of nowhere." Tintin could tell his tone sounded frustrated and not a little upset.

"But how about when you were young, do you remember anything about that?" the Captain queried, his own voice confused.

"Vaguely. But it's…shaded somehow. It's hard to explain. As if somehow my memories of anything before I was twelve or so have become…blocked. The clearest memory I have is standing in the train station in Brussels, to become a reporter and apply for a job. And from then on to now, I've always been Tintin, boy reporter."

He fell silent; his gaze fixed upon something unseen, unknowable, untouchable.

…


	8. Just be There

Further exploration on my take on Tintin's back story, and Haddock's reaction to the revelation …

…

Haddock sputtered. How in blisterin' blue barnacles could the boy not know his own history? Granted, there had been a time when he himself had been a wee bit fuzzy about his own background, but that had been caused by many a bottle. Tintin rarely imbibed, and there was nothing wrong with the lad's cognitive abilities.

"You've looked then? What about this church you say you were left at? And you had to have grown up somewhere - orphanage, foster family, den of wolves, what?"

It was Tintin's turn to lay a hand on Haddock's chest, forestalling a longwinded recital.

"Please Captain, this is me, remember? Trust me when I say I've exhausted all avenues. I've scoured every newspaper published around the time I think I might have been born for any mention of a lost child. That's how I know of the church - because there was a small article in a paper about a child being left on the doorstep. I've gone to the church, the newspaper, the local law enforcement, even the mayor at the time, but no one seems to have any information. As I said, I appeared and disappeared just as fast. I have no idea where I went to. Or how I ended up in Brussels in the first place, dog at my side. I don't even remember getting Snowy, only that he seems to have always been there."

The lad bit his lip. "So you see? How can I know somebody, if I don't…even know myself…"

He turned suddenly, rolling over completely and drew himself into a ball. Shocked, Haddock stared at the small figure before he realized the lad was shaking.

Scooting over to the desolate figure, Haddock gently laid a hand on his arm. "Lad? Come on now, it's alright."

"No, it's not." Came a muffled reply, accentuated by a sniff. "I've wondered and wondered about myself, and I know I come across as this cool, calm and collected youngster, but inside, I'm just mystified and confused and…and..alone." The last word came out so low that Haddock almost missed it.

"Alone! You're not alone, lad! Ya've got me don't ya? And that old goat of a professor and those Thom(p)son fellows and Nestor and yes, even that Milanese Nightmare! And don't you go forgettin' that scruffy mutt of yours." The Captain ascertained forcefully, his hand giving the young a squeeze.

"I know! I know that Captain! I do, really I do. But don't you see? Out of all them, you and Snowy are the ones I trust the most, and even you don't know me. I don't let you know me. It's as if by keeping everything about me a secret, then the parts that aren't known are no more important than the things that are."

Haddock sighed. He really wasn't cut out for being somebody's psychiatrist, but this was Tintin after all, and thunderin' typhoons, he wasn't going to let the lad just lie there and cry himself to sleep.

"Ok, lad. What can I do to help?"

Tintin was silent for so long, Haddock was afraid the boy had decided to clam up.

Instead the young man uncurled himself and turned back around. He scooted a little closer and Haddock instinctively put an arm around the boy's shoulders, his thumb subconsciously rubbing against the smooth skin in an attempt to sooth. Tintin snuggled closer and put his head against Haddock's chest, and draped his own arm around.

"I'm not sure. I guess…just be there. I think that's what is the most…frightening. That I'll wake up one day and everything I have and everybody I know will be gone, and no way to get anything back. That's why for so long I was on my own. I refused to get close to anyone, because I just knew that they'd one day be gone."

"Aahh now laddie, don't you fear, your ol' sea captain's not going anywhere. Why, if not for you, I'd still be an old drunkard, rolling about some tramp steamer out in the middle of nowhere, drinkin' and gamblin' my wages away."

He felt more than heard the boy's soft chuckle, followed by a deep breath.

"You're not the only one saved, Captain. I'm not sure why, but once I met you, I couldn't envision ever being not with you." The boy pulled back and looked directly at him, his grey eyes serious. "I feel as if you're a part of me, that we make a whole. I…I trust you Captain, and that's not an easy thing for me to say. I know you'll be with me, by me, for me. "

The boy laid his head back. "I'm sorry I got all emotional, but it's hard for me to be…open. And I know you mean well, and I do trust you, but… it's just my nature. I…do you understand?" His voice was tentative.

Haddock's hand stroked the boy's back, then curved around the lad's head and ruffled the short red-gold hairs. "Of course I do, my boy. And even if this old sea-dog doesn't, it doesn't mean I don't care for you any less. You're special to me, lad. Always have been, always will be."

"Same here Captain." Replied the boy, sleepily. Haddock could feel the lad's body relaxing.

"And lad?"

"Hmmm?"

"If you just happen to dream again, don't worry about it. Perfectly natural."

He felt the body in his arms tense for a moment, then relax. "Oh. Ummm…ok. Good night Captain."

"G'night, laddie."

…


	9. And a Young Man's Thoughts Turn To

Tintin's beginning to realize some very interesting aspects about himself along with his feelings toward his Captain.

…

Tintin opened his eyes, stretched and relaxed. He could hear the large figure next to him breathing heavily and allowed himself to close his eyes for just a few more minutes. It wasn't as if they had to be anywhere.

It had been four days since the 'incident' and nothing had happened since. Thank goodness. He smiled to himself how the Captain had gone about the next day acting as if nothing had happened. Tintin himself had been a bit nervous, especially when it was time for bed. But Haddock had just undressed, rolled into bed, turned his back and was soon snoring. Tintin wasn't entirely convinced the snores weren't just for show, but he appreciated it just the same. It had taken him a long time to relax and let himself fall asleep, but when next morning arrived and there had been no evidence of another accident, he had been very relieved.

They also hadn't talked any more concerning the mystery that surrounded Tintin, for which he was very grateful. He really was bothered about not knowing anything about himself, even though he had exhausted every avenue in his quest to discover even a shred of evidence. He wondered if he would ever know.

Opening his eyes, Tintin soon had to admit that was he getting a bit hungry. Sighing, he rolled out of bed, reached under the covers and dragged out trousers, shirt and sweater and rapidly pulled them on.

Quickly Tintin began the day's occupation and within a few minutes had the fire roaring, added another can of this or that to the ever present stew bubbling in the pot, mixed flour, baking soda and water together to make a sort of biscuit – scooping the resulting batter into a frying pan liberally coated with lard, placed that on the fireplace stones to bake, and then swept up the wooden floor just for something to do when he heard the other man's snorts, cough's and loud exclamations that signaled Haddock's newly woken status.

"Blisterin' (Hack), Blue (Snort), Barnacles!" The Captain exclaimed, followed by a series of deep grunts and groans. "I swear it gets colder every morning. I fully expect to wake up frozen solid."

Tintin turned and smiled at the older man who was sitting up in bed, his dark hair in disarray, small but bright blue eyes glaring.

"Now Captain, if you were frozen solid, I doubt you'd wake up." Tintin pointed out logically, knowing full well the response he'd get.

"You know what I mean, laddie! Thunderin' typhoons! Where are my blasted trousers?" Tintin watched fondly as the man hunted under the covers for his clothing, finally locating them and dressing while still under the blankets.

Sitting on the couch he waited until the older man had sunk down next to him, handed Haddock's bowl over and soon became preoccupied with spooning hot, thick and actually quite tasty stew into his mouth (he had done his own investigation of the contents that were stored in the wall behind him and had discovered an array of dried spices), using the now baked biscuits to sop up the last bits of gravy.

All things considered, they had lucked out stumbling across this cabin. As Haddock had explained, they could be smack dab in the middle of nowhere, or just next to a bustling metropolis, but until the cold snap ended and the drifts melted into something navigational, at least they had supplies to keep them alive for longer than just a day or two.

Finishing his breakfast, Tintin quickly used what little water remained from the day before and washed the bowl and spoon. It was time to start the rest of the day's work. Today it was Tintin's turn to bring in chunks of snow and place them in the water bucket, to melt slowly by the fire.

It was hard work, as the once soft snow had turned to hard packed ice, and required chopping and hacking at with the fireplace poker. The one time he'd used the hatchet had dulled the blade and even though the Captain hadn't complained, it had taken him more than a day to sharpen it back up.

Still, Tintin didn't grumble. For one thing it needed to be done and it wasn't going to chip itself off and walk in, jump into the bucket and graciously melt. Hours could be spent running outside, hacking until bits of ice flew everywhere, gathering up the pieces and then running back inside, stamping feet and blowing on frozen hands while transferring the bits to the water pot, waiting until you had feeling back in fingers and toes, ears and nose tip, only to do it again.

That was one thing the cabin didn't provide – extra clothing. A nice heavy coat, some boots and gloves and a big scarf would have been extremely welcome. Their shelter was obviously used only during the summer months, and just a set of well-worn flip flops had been found.

Working by himself also allowed Tintin time to be alone with his thoughts. He had tried to set them aside, bury them deep and usually he was quite good at that. But with very little in new stimulation, his mind would eventually latch on to the subject he just couldn't get a handle on.

How good it had felt when he had been rubbing up against the Captain.

It had actually taken a long time to even admit that fact. He had tried to assign the well-remembered sense of pleasure to the act itself, telling himself the gratification he'd gotten had been in the release. But he knew better. Tintin was nothing if not honest, and if one couldn't be honest with oneself, well, that was quite the problem.

For one moment upon waking, he had been well aware of what he was doing and who he was doing it to. And it had given him such a feeling of contentment, happiness, even satisfaction. And then reality had slammed into him.

He also knew he hadn't been forthright when the Captain had asked innocently if Tintin knew who he'd been dreaming about. Even though he really hadn't been dreaming of anyone specifically, there had been images of ships, the sound of the ocean, all accompanied by the give and take of surf. And who else could that have been?

Ever since then, he'd been trying to sort out just what exactly he should do. Ignore it and hope it went away? But what if it happened again? What if – heaven forbid, it does happen again and he were to mutter the Captain's name?

To engage in a relationship just wasn't something that Tintin had even thought about. He'd been right about his obsessive need to go on adventures and investigate crimes and solve all sorts of puzzles which resulted in ruling out any kind of romance, but he had to admit to there being a distinct lack of interest as well.

And now? It seemed as if he couldn't stop thinking about it. Ever since he had woken up from his dream, he had been incredibly aware of the large, warm body next to him as he went to bed every night.

During the day he kept himself busy. And in the evening, he made himself concentrate fully on whatever reading material he happened to have. He was becoming quite fluent in Tonkinese. He had no idea why there was a book on Tonkinese language among the various tomes that were in the small bookcase, but there it was and he latched onto it. He even had the Captain speaking various words and phrases.

He had tried to teach the man French, but Haddock had gotten irritated trying to sort out the intricate rules for nouns and pronouns and had finally thrown up his hands and given the lad the 'eye'. Tintin knew better than to argue at that point. He loved the older man dearly, and even though he liked to tease him, he didn't like to make him angry.

At least one other good thing had come about by being trapped in the cabin, there had been no liquor of any kind, and the Captain had been peacefully sober since. Well, as peaceful as a man with Haddock's temper could be, anyway.

But at night, he would lay there and he could feel himself becoming…enticed. He would try to think of other things, bite his lip painfully, bite his knuckles (he was surprised there weren't cuts – sometimes he'd bite so hard, he'd still have the marks the next morning). Finally, slowly he would feel his body calm down and he'd slip into slumber – hoping that nothing would occur during the night.

Something was going to have to be done. He couldn't go on like this much longer. Haddock was his friend, even at times a mentor. He depended on the other man for so many things, trusted him explicitly. Perhaps he should talk to him.

Or not.

…


	10. And an Older Man's Thoughts Turn To

Haddock has a moment of introspection and tries to come up with a solution to the problem…

…

Haddock grimaced as he swung the axe up, then down in perfect motion to split the piece of wood in two. Bend over, grab the two pieces, toss into wood carrier, grab another piece of wood, position it just so, repeat. He didn't envy the lad who was so diligently hacking at the ice in front of the cabin. Even though Haddock wasn't dressed for the frigid weather, the physical activity kept him nice and toasty. However, his toes were a bit frosty.

Stamping his feet to get the blood flowing, Haddock grimaced again, but not from the strain in his muscles. He was going to have to do something about the lad.

Ever since that night, even though things had gone back to normal between the two of them, he could sense there was something bothering the boy.

Haddock considered the various problems the boy could be concerned about. Heaven knew once the youth got something in his head, he'd stew over it until he figured it out. Possibly it could be their situation – though they still had plenty of food and the wood pile wasn't in any danger of running out just yet – all the same, if they were trapped here for months then it could become a problem.

There was the fact that the criminal's getting away was bothering the lad – Tintin hated to come so close to solving a puzzle, only to have the satisfying finish yanked away. Haddock had explained that the Thom(p)son's had all the information needed, and the authorities alerted to the crime ring's modus operandi, but he knew the lad was still worried and annoyed that the criminals might get away with it.

Tintin was probably also worried about Snowy, his constant companion and had only smiled wistfully as the Captain assured the lad that the small, white wire-haired terrier was quite capable of looking after itself. Probably had brought in the criminals single pawedly.

Or more likely, the lad was harboring feelings of regret from having told Haddock about his history. Or lack thereof. Haddock had never met anyone so reticent about giving any kind of personal information and what few facts he'd known had either been extracted like teeth, or received as if given a momentous present.

Shaking his head, the older man contemplated Tintin's assurance that he'd investigated every avenue concerning his past. And knowing Tintin, the lad unquestioningly had. But it was just so peculiar to think that the boy had absolutely no clue to the very basic information concerning his own self. To not know how old one was? To not recall the years of growing up? Somebody had to have given birth to him; perhaps given him away – yes, those things happened. But somebody had to have taught the youth to crawl, walk and talk. He had to have gone to school somewhere, one just didn't learn to read and write by magic. Haddock knew the boy had grown up Catholic, so there had to have been a church where the boy attended mass, classes the boy took, partaken in ceremonies.

It was definitely odd. The boy had indicated that his memories were – how had he put it…indistinct. Had something, an accident perhaps, occurred that had given the boy amnesia? Or had something worse happen, something so horrific that the boy didn't want to remember? Had purposely hidden away the answers to who he was, deciding it was better to begin afresh, remade himself into a person he wanted to be and then gone off and became as such.

Pausing a moment, Haddock wondered if the youth had ever tried hypnosis? Perhaps once they got back, he'd suggest it to the lad.

Until then, he was just going to have to deal with the here and now that was usually all that Tintin was. And right now something was bothering the lad. What sort of friend was Haddock if he couldn't lend an ear or a shoulder to a friend in need?

Tonight then, he'd ask Tintin if there was anything the lad wanted to talk about. For a moment his mind flashed back to the events of a few nights ago, and wondered if maybe that was what was bothering the boy? But except for a bit of uneasiness the next day (more on the boy's side than Haddock's), things had gone back to normal. Nothing more had happened since.

Haddock squelched the notion that questioned whether it was a good thing or not.

…


	11. 8,365th Time

Tintin's still reticent about asking for help in solving his latest mystery.

…

Tintin sighed for the eight thousandth, three hundred and sixty fifth time. At least it felt that way. All evening he had tried to get his nerve up and actually ask the Captain for advice, information or instruction. But he'd glance over at the man who was seemingly absorbed in re-reading the fishing magazine and find his resolve fading. Just how does one bring up this particular subject? It's not as if you were asking a person where they got their haircut, or what haberdashery they purchased their socks from. Those were nice, innocent questions that resulted in nice, innocent answers.

No, these were questions that opened up even more questions. Difficult questions. Awkward questions.

Tintin started to sigh again and physically stopped himself. For someone whose job it was to ask the hard questions, pry answers out of recalcitrant witness, keep digging until the puzzles were solved and all was put right with the world for the time being – he really was having a hard time even opening his mouth.

Dropping his eyes back to the novel he was reading, Tintin realized he hadn't turned a page in probably over an hour. He'd re-read the same sentence over and over. He drew in a deep breath…and held it.

Crumbs!

Looking up at the small clock on the mantel, Tintin noticed with some dismay and not a little relief that it was about a half an hour before they usually started getting ready for bed. Perhaps it was now too late to start having an in-depth conversation about his lack of knowledge concerning the more intricate data of being a sexually active adult. He really wanted to know what was wrong and what was right. He had been raised Catholic and even though he knew it was considered immoral to engage in pleasuring oneself, he also had a more scientific, logical mind and could see it for what it was – purely physical response to a physical need.

But was there more to it than that?

Was having sex just answering a need, or could it be more? And if it was more, then what exactly was it like?

And then there were all the questions he had concerning sharing pleasure with another person.

Biting his lip, Tintin suppressed sigh number eight thousandth, three hundred and sixty sixth. Or was it seventh? Whatever. Closing the book with a snap that had the Captain looking at him in surprise, he stood up and dragged the blankets he'd wrapped around himself over to the bed.

"Going to bed, Lad? Rather early."

"I know Captain, but I'm a bit tired and ready to go to sleep." Tintin answered. He could feel the older man's eyes on him as he took off his shoes and slid under the covers, waiting until he was warmer to pull off his clothes and tuck them down toward the bottom, keeping them warm for the next day. He wished he could take off his socks, but his feet never seemed to be warm enough, and neither he nor the Captain appreciated a frozen foot coming in contact.

Rolling over onto his side, he purposely closed his eyes and forced himself to relax into sleep. Just as he slid into slumber, he felt himself sigh. Again.

…


	12. What's it Like?

Haddock knows the lad is confused, but he loves the boy too much to pry. Little does he know how much Tintin will surprise him...

…

There had been plenty of times over the last few days that Haddock hadn't bemoaned the fact that there wasn't a drop of alcohol in the place. A nice drink would have been extremely welcome at the moment.

After dinner (another bowl of the ever present stew – the Captain would have killed for a nice steak, a piece of cheese, even fresh broccoli!) he and the lad had settled in for their nightly reading. At least the lad had picked up something other than that cursed language book.

Every time he thought he'd gotten to the point of broaching the subject, he'd look over at that bent head with its red-gold hair and falter. The lad was just so reserved. Tintin hated to be questioned about personal issues.

Even though he could hear the boy sighing over and over and doubted it was from the book he was so obviously not reading, still Haddock hesitated. He was aware that he was putting off what he had so earlier committed to doing, but he really didn't want to open up a can of worms. And if the boy did find a way to work through whatever was bothering him, so much the better.

And if the boy decided to bring it up, well then, Haddock would deal with it then.

Hearing a loud clap, Haddock looked up to see the youth stand up and begin to drag the covers over to the bed. Knowing it was still a bit early; he questioned the lad and received somewhat of a stilted answer in return.

He watched with concern as the boy quickly lay down and turned over and wondered if perhaps not saying anything had been a good idea. Heaving his own sigh, he remained where he was and finished the article – a very informative one on the theory of salmon farming. He smiled to himself as he imagined rows upon rows of fish head's poking out of cultivated fields, even though he knew that wasn't what was meant by the term farming.

Closing the magazine much more softly than the boy had his book, Haddock stood and stretched. The day's activities had both loosened some muscles and tightened others and he was looking forward to putting his head down and his feet up. Quickly he blew out the oil lamps, banked the fire and pulled the stew pot away from the fire so it would remain warm but not cook any further.

Adding his own coverings to the bed and removing his boots, placing them next to Tintin's much smaller footwear, he sat on the bed and slowly removed his coat, bulky sweater and then his trousers, trying to not jostle the bed too much. Stuffing them under the covers, he quickly lay down and pulled the blankets around him, pushing his clothes down with his feet. Lying on his back, he stared up at the ceiling for a time, waiting for sleep to overtake him.

Just as he started to experience the first affects of drowsiness, he felt the lad turn over and face him. He waited a moment and heard once more the deep sigh.

"Ok, lad, what is it? What's botherin' you?"

Silence for a long moment. Then a small shift as the youth slid a little closer.

"Captain, what's it like?"

"What's what like?

"Oh! Er, um." Deep breath. "What's sex like? Is it everything it's supposed to be?"

Haddock had never been so astonished in all his life.

…


	13. The Talk

Aaahhhhh…. Now we're getting somewhere. Trust Tintin's natural curiosity to save the day!

…

Tintin could feel the man stiffen and winced. Quickly he began to talk, to diffuse the situation.

"What I mean is, Captain, um, I've heard that it's supposed to be wonderful and um, er… that it's special and magical and that it's…it's, well…" Tintin swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I just want to understand and you, that is…You're older than I am and, well, more experienced and I was just wondering if you had any…thing to say about it…and…"

Tintin wanted to fling himself over and bury his head in his hands. He wanted to dig himself a hole in the mattress. He wanted lighting to strike him. For heaven's sake, how could he possibly have been so mind-numbingly incoherent? Waking soon after falling asleep, he had lain there deciding not to hesitate another moment, waiting for the Captain to get into bed, carefully rehearsing exactly what he would say and then ended up babbling like an idiot.

Even his first sentence – 'What's it like?" Why, he could have been referring to anything, from his actual subject to championship cow chip tossing. And it had gone downhill from there. What was he – twelve? He knew he was young (at least he thought he was), but he wasn't that young. Inexperienced, yes. After all, wasn't that the whole point of this exercise? To gain a bit of knowledge so he could make an educated decision?

He suddenly realized that the older man was still lying there. Tintin winced again and tried to think of something to say that would rectify the situation, put the man at ease. Perhaps he could offer to take a vow of silence, never speak again?

Just as Tintin opened his mouth to say something, anything then he felt the Captain turn in his direction. He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed, hard. Whatever the man was going to say to him, he'd take it.

"Well lad, I suppose I'm as good a person as any to hear about this subject."

Tintin's eyes widened. His friend's tone was gentle, even humorous. He wasn't going to be yelled at for bringing up such a delicate and intimate topic.

"Now, you're right in your assumption that I have had experience in these matters. It can be wonderful and it can be amazing and it can be everything you've heard it can be. It can also be used as just another good time, meaning little and never looked back at. I've had a few relationships in my time - good, bad and even a couple of fantastic ones."

Tintin heard the man take a breath and then continue on. For a moment he wished he could see the expression on the Captain's face and yet was grateful the darkness kept everything somewhat impersonal.

"And there have been bad times, too. I'm not saying that everything is all rosy, unicorns prancing and rainbows in the sky. When you get into a relationship with somebody, there are aspects to them that may not be in tune with yours. You understand?"

"Yes Captain. Like us – we have our differences, but we still make sure to stay friends."

"Hmmm, yes. Anyway, is this being helpful, lad?"

"Well, sort of. I guess what I really want to know, is having sex, er, worth it?"

There was silence for long moment.

"Aye lad. IF it's the right person, the right time, then yes. It's worth it. Then it is amazing and wonderful."

Tintin lay there, trying to phrase his next question. "How do you know it's the right person?"

"Now that lad is the question everybody asks. Sometimes you just know and other times it takes you by surprise. A person you had no intention of becoming involved in will suddenly reveal themselves to be your one and only."

"Did you ever have a one and only, Captain?"

"Came close lad, came close. But things never worked out. Being a seaman is hard on long-term relationships."

"Yes. Being an adventurer is the same." he replied in sympathy, receiving a slight chuckle in return.

For a long moment, the two lay in companionable silence, the earlier awkwardness gone.

"Tintin, have you ever been interested in someone?"

He took a moment to respond. "I…I'm not sure Captain. What I mean is, I've never looked at anyone and thought of becoming romantically involved. I just have never had the…inclination." He thought he had someone in mind, but really wasn't ready to admit his somewhat ambiguous feelings. What if it was just a physical reaction to a nearby body? After all, he'd never spent so much time sleeping next to someone.

"Would you like to?"

"I…think so, yes. But I wouldn't know who, and I surely wouldn't have a clue how to go about finding somebody." He leaned a little closer. "Captain, I'm sure you may have noticed, but I look much younger than what I am – even though I really don't know how old I am. I think I may be in my late teens, but with a face like mine, not to mention any facial hair whatsoever, I could be early teens. But I really don't think I'm that young. "

"Really lad? Hadn't noticed." Replied the other man, barely holding back a chuckle.

"Exactly. So anybody my actual age is going to see me as a kid, and anyone younger is going to be, well…younger. So it's not like I have many options."

Tintin sighed and rolled over onto his back, placing his hands behind his head. His physical attributes were something of a blessing and a curse. His baby face, smooth skin, slight form and small stature allowed him to confuse his enemies; lulling them into thinking he wasn't as skilled as he was. And he had knocked out many an assailant who had underestimated the strength he carried.

But at the same time, he had to prove to others just how capable he was. His friends, associates and readers understood him, but every time he met someone new, it was the same old story – why, he's just a kid! Actually, his friends, associates and readers still considered him a kid, but at least he didn't have to work at convincing them he was competent.

"Lad, relationships take time, if they're to be done right."

"Precisely Captain! And just when am I going to get the time? You know how I am. Look at us, I've told you more about myself in the past few days than I have in the whole time we've known each other. And that was like pulling teeth for me." Tintin argued, his tone a bit more sharp than he wanted, the frustration that he usually held at bay coming out.

"Easy there, son." The Captain soothed.

"Sorry. I just…oh, I just don't know what I want. I'm sorry I brought this up, I thought, well I guess I thought if I understood more about things I could ease my mind." His thoughts whirled, more confused than ever before.

As if reading his thoughts, the Captain asked "What do you want, laddie?"

Tintin lay there trying to come up with a reply. Once more he felt a building urge just to cry. Why was this so frustrating? Why couldn't he just say what was on his mind? He knew what he wanted - to be cuddled and coddled and fussed over. He wanted to be held tight. He wanted to know he was wanted and desired. He wanted somebody, anybody to look at him as if he was the best thing ever to walk the earth. He wanted the same sensations that he had felt the other night, the surge of passion, the need to become one, the spiraling ascent towards a mind-blowing, heart-pumping, chest-heaving climax that would leave him cross-eyed and slack-jawed.

He wanted a lover. Dammit. There – he had admitted it. He was tired of being alone, of being by himself, of relying on only himself. He wanted somebody to be there at the end of the day that would sooth and stroke and be his, only his.

That's what he wanted to ask the Captain. How does one get a lover? And better yet, how does one ask someone to be a lover?

…


	14. Reaching Out a Helping Hand

Almost there! Haddock's turn to realize some important facts…

…

"What do you want, laddie?" Haddock had asked, but still had not received an answer. He wasn't sure he was going to get one. He doubted the lad knew exactly what he wanted.

The Captain had chuckled at Tintin's description of himself, but it was true. The lad was extremely youthful looking. There were times when the boy's boyishly good looks gave the Captain a turn. And since the two of them had been living and sleeping in such close proximity, he'd been aware of the lad's other attributes as well.

Haddock lay there and could feel the boy's frustration. He had a suspicion that all this talk was skirting around the real issue. But he just wasn't sure how to approach the lad. The kid may seem a youth; but he was actually a young man and really should be out and about sowing some wild oats. But he was well aware that Tintin was too upstanding, too much the gentleman, and just plain too naïve and inexperienced to go out and just throw himself at anyone.

And he wasn't sure he actually liked the idea of Tintin throwing himself at just anyone. Frowning a bit as he tried to envision the boy with someone and feeling an odd sense of anger. And disappointment.

Suddenly realizing that there had not been a word from the lad the whole time Haddock had been musing, he turned and looked at the boy.

Tintin was still lying on his back, hands behind his head. He could just make out the gleam of an eyeball and knew the youth was still awake. Even though it was dark, he could see the sadness in the boy's face and without thinking, laid a hand on the slim yet hard chest.

"Tintin my boy, is there anything your ol' sea captain can do for you?"

"I…don't know. I wish I knew, because I'd tell you. And I know you'd do anything for me Captain."

Haddock frowned. He left his hand there, his thumb rubbing lightly back and forth. It wasn't until he felt a small nub harden that he realized he'd been over the lad's nipple. At the same time he heard the lad give a small gasp. But what surprised him the most was the small upward movement that Tintin made, pressing his chest ever so slightly into Haddock's hand. He could feel the boy's heartbeat quicken.

"Lad…?"

…


	15. Epiphany

At long last the truth revealed!

…

Tintin lay as if struck.

Hearing the older man address him, Tintin continued to lie there, caught up in the strange and wonderful sensation. It was so new, so strong. And somehow so right.

How had he been so blind…

His friend. His best friend. And if not him, then who else? Who else did he trust explicitly? Who else did he love, love with all his heart? Raising his hand, Tintin laid it on his friend's hand, pressing it to his chest, right above said heart.

He knew exactly that this is what he wanted. He'd always known this is what he had wanted. He'd just hadn't realized it till now.

But was it something his Captain would want?

"C…Archie? Do you…love me?"

"What kind of question is that? Course I love you!" The older man replied sincerely.

"What I mean is, I…love you very much. I just need to know, how do you love me?"

"Lad, I'm not sure what you're askin'? I love you very much, my boy."

Tintin could tell the man was confused. How could he let the man know exactly what he meant?

Taking a deep breath, he turned toward the older man and leaned close. He would find out, one way or another and pressed his lips to his friend's.

At first he thought he'd made a mistake and felt his heart break. The older man just lay there unresponsive. He started to pull away, to once more apologize to the Captain of his impetuous behavior, roll over and then try not to cry himself to sleep.

Only to have the man fling his arm around Tintin's shoulders and pull him close.

"Tintin? Is this what you mean by how do I love you? Because if this is what I think it is, then lad…yes. I do love you this way. Have for a while now, but just didn't know it. And didn't know you did, too."

"Oh, Archie, I do love you this way! I wasn't sure myself until, well...just now." Tintin could feel his lips beginning to smile widely.

"Is this what's been botherin' ya lad? Noticed something was wrong." Haddock replied, his tone soft.

Tintin nodded. "Yes, that's why I was asking you about relationships and…and sex." He could feel the blush rising. "I have been wanting more to life than just adventure after adventure, but there hadn't been anyone who interested me. And then I realized, just now, that the reason I haven't found anyone is because that person was right in front of me, all along."

The arms that were still around him pulled him tighter. "Ah, lad. Oh my Tintin. You've just made a lonely old man very happy." The Captain cried out joyously.

"Archie! You are not old." Tintin replied sternly. Voice turning hesitant, he continued softly. "But you were lonely?"

"Aye, Tintin. Even though you've filled a very big gap in my heart, there still was a piece or two missing. And if you're saying what I think you're saying, then my heart's going to bust with happiness."

"But if I'm wrong laddie, then I think my heart will break. Tell your ol' Captain the truth. Do you want me, all of me?"

"Oh please, Archie, please. Yes, let's be lovers, you and I." Tintin implored, his eyes shining.

And sealed his newfound conviction with a kiss.

As he lay there, enjoying the second kiss of his life, he could feel his friend's hands begin to gently rub up and down his back. It felt nice. Very nice.

He decided to give in return, except only one hand was free, seeing as he had been crushed up agreeably into the Captain's embrace and the other arm was currently caught between them. So he rubbed everywhere he could reach, which was the other man's shoulder, arm and along the back.

Tintin noticed that Haddock's mouth was no longer closed, but was placing moist kisses on his lips. Opening his own mouth, he found he could taste the other man and that was also nice.

When he felt the tip of a tongue press into him, he pressed his own back. And that was really nice.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss as he was beginning to have a hard time breathing, he gazed into the Captain's eyes.

"Archie? I'm really enjoying everything, but this is all new to me. I'm in your hands, literally. Would you…show me? Show me what it means to be a lover?"

"Of course Tintin, my little love. We'll take our time, get to know each other. We got nothin' but time, way out here."

Sighing with contentment, Tintin smiled. As happy as he was at this moment, he felt a small bit of sadness that he'd taken so long to arrive at this epiphany. But at the same time, he thanked the fates that had sent the two of them here, to this little cabin. Otherwise he may have never have known what love, true love was all about.

Feeling himself gathered close once more, he eagerly embraced the Captain and began the journey toward becoming a lover. It wasn't long before the kisses became quite ardent – and he followed the Captain's direction.

After his mouth was thoroughly explored by moist, probing tongue, Tintin followed it back and investigated the other man's mouth. And when the Captain rained kisses all over his face, well naturally he repaid in kind.

Tintin had never played such a delightful game of follow the leader.

And it was apparent that his friend was just as delighted to lead. Every time the other man would introduce something new, such as kissing and then sucking on one of Tintin's earlobes, he'd wait for Tintin to do the same.

And when the Captain's hand (or hands) would touch or stroke a surface, Tintin made sure to do so as well.

And so it was as they traveled one by one from face to neck to chest…

The first time Tintin felt one of his nipples sucked into the Captain's mouth he thought he would scream from sheer delight. And then realizing that no one would hear him, proceeded to do so.

Hearing the other man chuckle, Tintin laughed. "I'm…well, I'm not sorry, really. That felt amazing!"

"Do you want me to keep going, my lad, or switch places?"

"Ummm, would you mind Archie? I do want to touch you there too, but…it really did feel wonderful."

"My pleasure, Tintin." And so saying, began treating Tintin to that most amazing sensation, sparks running from the erect nub down his belly and straight to…his groin.

Shifting a little as he tried to ease the pressure that was building slowly but surely, he couldn't help but groan.

"Ohhh, Archie, I…I'm…ummm."

"What is it lad? Do you want me to stop, or is it that you want me to keep going?"

Tintin wasn't sure if he should tell him what the exact circumstance was. He certainly didn't want the man to stop what he was doing, but he was becoming rather stimulated. And becoming more so by the minute. But weren't they lovers or at least well on their way towards becoming so? And as such, shouldn't they ease each other's needs?

As he thought this, he suddenly wondered if his friend was beginning to experience the same reaction.

Taking a deep breath, Tintin gently pushed against the Captain's shoulders. Instantly the older man stopped and pulled away. Speaking quickly, he sought to both calm any concern the man might have and explain his action. "It's alright Archie, I like what you're doing. It's just…well, other parts of me do, too."

He glanced down at himself and watched as the Captain's eyes followed down.

"Ah! I see lad. Now that's a most wonderful predicament to have. Would you like your Captain to lend a hand?"

"What about you? Do you…need a hand? Or…anything else I can do?"

The Captain reared back a little, an incredulous look on his face. "Oh my boy! Are ya sure you know what is you're offerin?"

"Yes, I do. I'm not that naïve. I've read some things, and…well, you do know how it is with me, I research subjects fully." Tintin ducked his head a little. "When I went through puberty, I was curious. So I managed to find some material in the library and I…sneaked it out." Raising his head and grinning conspiratorially, he continued. "I know what's what and where and how. And I know that men make love to one another and I'm fully aware how that's done too."

Looking his friend straight in the eye, he stated his wishes plainly. "Archie, I want you. Fully. Completely. I want to give myself to you, I want you to make me yours."

For a long moment the older man stared deeply into his eyes. "If you're sure, my boy. Don't want to rush you…"

"I'm absolutely sure. That is…if you want me?"

"Oh Tintin, I want you, my love."

Tintin raised his arms up to accept his soon to be lover's embrace. Only to find the man sitting up.

"But if we're to take this step, we'd better be prepared. I don't think the two of us will be in the mood to stop and I sure as hell don't want to hurt you. Be right back laddie."

Tintin lay there as the Captain leaped out of bed. He wasn't quite sure what the other man meant, but he wasn't concerned. He knew whatever was next, he would enjoy it completely. Turning down the blankets he removed his underwear as his erection really was becoming rather painful, Tintin waited for his Captain to return.

Neither one of them noticed that the cabin had become the warmest it had ever been…

…


	16. Oh My's and Whoohoo's

Just as the title says! (Now really - could I have named this long awaited chapter anything else...)

…

Leaping from the bed, Haddock scooted over to the cupboards and scrounged around until he located what he was looking for, quickly grabbing a bottle of oil off the shelf. As he returned to the love nest, he caught sight of Tintin's body, the fire light glowing off the youth's pale skin.

Haddock stared down at the boy as he lay sprawled on the bed, one arm over his head, and the other laying softly at his side, legs slightly spread, his glorious body naked, the warm freckles glowing against his ivory/peach skin, a skin that was incredibly silken covering a body that was surprisingly strong for one so agile... all in all a very inviting pose.

But it was the look on the lad's beautiful face that was making the gruff old sea dog's heart melt. Tintin's gorgeous grey eyes were looking at the Captain with a mixture of love, trust and need.

He watched as one of Tintin's arms lifted, to beckon him.

Still wearing his own underwear, but his arousal very clear, Haddock sat down beside the boy. "Still sure about this, laddie? You know we don't have to. We can make do."

The ginger haired youth heaved a small sigh. "Captain, you want this, I want this. We're only prolonging the inevitable and if we wait much longer, well, I don't know about you, but I might explode."

Smiling down at the boy, Haddock bent forward and gave a gentle stroke to the soft cheek, the skin still as baby fine as ever. "Ok lad, but any time you want this to end, it ends."

"Yes, Archie, mon amour. I know. I trust you. You're why I can do this, because I know you will be gentle with me."

Haddock breath hitched in his chest; the last thing he would ever want was to hurt this beautiful, wonderful young man. He hoped and prayed he'd be able to keep himself in check. He so wanted his boy's first time to be amazing, and not something to regret.

Leaning closer, they began to share more kisses, mouths opening and drinking deeply of each other, tongues exchanging freely. Haddock wrapped an arm around Tintin's shoulders and let the other roam the warm, silken flesh, stroking and caressing chest and abdomen, giving special attention to small yet hardened nipples and belly button, a perfect innie. Further and further down he went, until his hand was just above the boy's shaft. He could feel the soft yet wiry strands of pubic hair, and wondered if they were just as red-gold as the hair on the lad's head.

As he took hold of Tintin's erection, eliciting a gasp from the boy, he felt the young man's body buck a little. Slow at first and then gaining tempo, he began to stroke up and down. Shifting a little, he left off and cupped the boy's testicles, massaging them gently and heard several low moans. Tintin began to thrust his hips up and down, and Haddock returned to stroking the boy even faster. His hand wrapped more firmly around the throbbing shaft, the friction adding heat to the already burning hot flesh. Tintin was moaning and gasping, throwing his head back and arching his back, his hips matching the Captain's rhythm. Haddock could feel the tension in the boy's groin and was sure Tintin was close to coming.

Sure enough the boy's rhythm began to falter, the moans changed to whimpers, until suddenly the boy shoved his hips up. Feeling the boy's shaft twitch, Haddock stilled his movements as he heard the lad give several deep grunts, accompanied by streams of seminal fluid bursting from him, arcing up and out to land in soft splatters upon Tintin's softly freckled abdomen and lower chest. The next moment and Haddock was holding a flaccid cock, the youth collapsing back, breath shuddering out of heaving chest.

Giving the young lad a minute to gain his bearings, the Captain began to softly stroke the boy's now soft flesh, then slid down to give a slight massage to his balls. Further down he went and began to gently rub a finger against the sensitive peritoneum, and he heard and felt the lad's delighted response.

Shifting, Haddock left his administrations to grab hold of the bottle of oil, managing to open it with one hand and squirting a generous amount onto his hand. Setting it aside, Haddock spread the oil, making sure his index and middle finger were well coated. Shifting again, he angled his hand between the boy's thighs. Softly bringing the tip of his longest finger to the tightly puckered bud of Tintin's anus, Haddock hesitated.

"Tintin? Lad?"

The boy's response was a softly muttered "Hmmm?"

"Ready lad? I'm going to put a finger into you, ok?"

The boy shifted a little and Haddock felt Tintin's thighs lift and spread a bit. "Yes… please. I'm…ready."

Haddock still waited, wanting to make sure. Then slowly, oh so very gently he inserted his middle finger into the boy, pressing more and more until it was fully seated.

Tintin's reaction was immediate. He made a small murmur, but of pain or pleasure Haddock wasn't sure, but as he kept his finger inside Tintin, giving the lad the chance to get used to the foreign feeling, Haddock felt a light squeeze around his digit. Again and again Tintin tightened his anal muscle, each time a little harder until at last he was squeezing Haddock hard, keeping the pressure on. Finally the boy released him with a sigh.

"Captain?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Feels good. Burns a little, but I like it. You…you can go on, if you'd like."

Haddock smiled and slowly but surely began to move his finger around the tight, hot flesh, Tintin making small inarticulate noises that was pure pleasure. And then the youth gasped as Haddock found and purposely pressed hard against the boy's prostate. The young lad was certainly feeling and expressing pleasure, as his legs were drawn up, back arching, head thrown back all while mewling cries burst from him.

Releasing the pressure, Haddock began to stroke his finger in and out, faster and faster, making sure to press against the pleasure spot. Tintin matched his rhythm with movements of his own, pushing his hips forward, then back. As he stroked the youth into a delirious state, Haddock slipped the second finger in. Tintin didn't slow down his tempo, only grunted.

Haddock had been watching the boy, and felt satisfaction that the only expressions that flitted over the lad's beautiful features were ones of pleasure – his eyes were closed tight, but with ecstasy not pain, his lips pulled back from desire and not horror, the cries that were uttered were in approval and not dismay. Both of Tintin's arms were wrapped tightly around Haddock, the fingers tightening and then loosening in the same rhythm as Haddocks fingers. He was happy to note that the boy had become aroused again, the shaft rising fully, thick and engorged, bobbing slightly, tip already moist.

Knowing his own girth, and now familiar with Tintin's entrance, Haddock backed out and oh so gently inserted three fingers. It was a tight fit, and he heard the lightest of whimpers from the boy. Pulling out he laid his hand on Tintin's thigh and allowed the lad to relax.

"Sorry son, but if we're to do this, I need to know you can take me into you."

"Ummm, yeah, yes… I know Captain. I understand. Try again, I'll try to relax...I want this, I want you..."

Once more Haddock began to prime the boy, first one finger, then two, stroking and giving pleasure. Haddock noticed that the lad had not lost his arousal, but was still hard as before. Haddock began to scissor his fingers, pressing gently against the side of Tintin's anal muscles, stretching them out a little more each time.

Well aware that no matter how much time he took to prepare the lad, how much he coated his own cock with oil, his entrance into the boy was probably going to hurt. But he also was aware that Tintin trusted him, and knew that Haddock would never hurt him intentionally.

Patiently he worked on Tintin until finally he was able to insert all three fingers into the boy. Once more he stilled, letting the boy become familiar with the sensation. Gradually he felt the boy's body relax, the tension easing from around Haddock's fingers.

Moving his fingers he gently began to probe the sides of the lad's flesh, moving closer to the sweet spot. He knew he had hit it when the boy let out a gasping cry and arched back. Keeping up the pressure, he began to move in and out, never completely leaving the boy. Faster and faster he moved, finger fucking the tight, hot anus, knowing he was driving the boy toward climax.

Once again the boy's hips thrust up and down, shoving back as Haddock pressed in. Once more the lad cried out his desire in ever increasing intensity.

Haddock couldn't wait any more. Knowing that the boy was in the throes of passion he shifted position and knelt between the boy's thighs. Using his knees, Haddock spread Tintin's legs a bit. Taking a deep breath, Haddock withdrew his hand, pulled down his underwear, turned and grabbed the bottle of oil and quickly poured a generous amount into his palm. Taking his own large and very aroused cock into the other hand, Haddock coated every inch of it. Then just as quickly he grabbed hold of Tintin's buttocks and raised him up.

"C..captain?"

"Wrap your legs up and around me Tintin, love."

Tintin did so without question.

Making a small adjustment to his position, Haddock leaned over and guided his cock toward the boy's entrance. Stopping as he felt the tip of his cock make contact with the tight, hot puckered flesh, he took a deep breath.

"Lad? I just need to know one more time, you are sure?"

"Yes Captain, please. I want this, you want this. Go ahead, go in me. I want you to...take me."

Shutting his eyes for a moment, Haddock once more took a deep breath. He gently inserted himself, pressing deeper and deeper. He didn't stop until he was completely seated inside the boy's oh so hot, and quite tight ass, his balls pressed tight against those perfect cheeks.

Tintin had cried out, had tightened reflexively at the first overwhelming sensation of something big and thick stretching him out painfully. But now that Haddock lay calmly on and in him, the lad began to relax. Slowly the lad's breathing calmed somewhat, and when the boy began to rock his hips hesitantly, Haddock knew it was going to be alright.

And proceeded to make love, sweet love to the boy.

…


	17. Epilogue

An Extra Chapter! What the hey?

I originaly had it ending at chapter 16 but then realized there were some things left unsaid, along with a loose end left dangling, sooo…

Here you go!

…

Tintin lay there feeling euphoric. It had happened. He and the Captain had made love. They had become one. He could still recall the feel of his best friend inside him, filling him full, moving with him and then giving him the ultimate gift. And so gently! So lovingly! Tintin could feel his heart well up knowing how tenderly the older man had taking care of him, making sure he was comfortable.

Opening his eyes a bit, he suddenly realized something – Archie wasn't just his best friend. He was the one thing Tintin had wanted for longer than he had ever realized.

A lover. His lover. The only lover he had ever and would ever desire.

A smile began to play over his lips as he recognized the sense of being satisfied wasn't just physical, but emotional as well. No matter who he was or where he had come from, he was no longer alone. And never would be again.

…

Haddock surveyed the exhausted youth, a smile playing over his lips. The boy was extremely good looking at the best of time, but was downright gorgeous at the moment. His lips were slightly parted as his breath panted in and out of him, the face that had been so recently contorted in rapture was now smooth and shone from the sweat that lay lightly upon the skin. His eyes were closed, the lids resting gently upon his cheeks, a sweet smile playing about those delectable lips. Every bit of the lad's features indicated contentment, satisfaction, joy.

And he, an old sea-captain that had loved this pipsqueak tuft of ginger from the very moment the lad had dropped into his life those many days ago, was the one responsible for putting that expression on the young lad's face.

And he swore that he would continue putting that expression on the boy's face, giving the lad anything and everything he desired.

Taking the boy into his arms and cuddling him close – lord, how long he had wanted to do this, Haddock vowed that he would never let his little love go.

…

They made love all night long. And into the day. And each and every night and day from then on.

They made love on the bed and on the couch. Draped over the chair and both on and under the table. In front of the fireplace and up against the walls. Standing, kneeling, sitting, lying down and a few positions in between.

And each time was just as wondrous as the first.

Leaving the cabin was no longer an option. Even if the sun broke out and the temperature turned balmy, the snow disappeared in an instant and a four lane highway was to be found just minutes away – this has become their whole world and they'd have to dragged, kicking and screaming from it.

And so the world wondered what happened to the amazing boy reporter and the sea captain that accompanied him, but as far as those two were concerned – the world could go to hell in a hand basket. This was the only adventure they'd ever need for the rest of their lives.

…

What's that? Snowy you ask?

Oh, he'd gotten to the train on time and had saved the day. He missed his young master of course and even missed the salty Sea-Captain (not too mention the Sea-Captain's whisky) and knew he'd meet up with them in time. But he was a most intelligent dog and he had been well aware of what really was hidden between the two friends. He had a feeling - a sixth sense as it were - that things were going quite well for the two. And that was fine by him.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

Oh my and whoo-hoo! My first big multi-chapter!

Again, thanks mucho grand for all the reviews, they really mean a lot. Thanks to all who stuck with this, know it was rather slow building - but we got there!

So until the next story - soon, I promise, I bid you au revior, till we meet again...


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